


Red, On the Left Side

by whataflammableheart



Series: To (Not) Be So Lonely [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Canon Compliant, Consensual Underage Sex, Discussion of fisting, First Time, Fluff and Crack, Gay, Handkerchief Code, M/M, Missing Scene, Teen Romance, Top Kurt Hummel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataflammableheart/pseuds/whataflammableheart
Summary: With opening night behind them and something new on the horizon, Blaine asks Kurt a question he wasn't prepared to answer on the way to the Anderson house.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: To (Not) Be So Lonely [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008138
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Red, On the Left Side

**Author's Note:**

> So it's 2020 and I am so deeply in a Glee-rewatch rabbit hole that this isn't even the only fic I've been working on. I just have a lot of feelings about what worked about these characters and what didn't okay?
> 
> Anyway, I was tickled to notice that Kurt was wearing a red handkerchief on the left side of his body in not one, but two episodes of early season 3- including 3x05 The First Time. Obviously the costume department said it wasn't intentional, but I'm kind of obsessed with the idea of Kurt doing it on purpose but being totally awkward about it and assuming no one in Lima, Ohio would notice. So this happened? 
> 
> For context: Gay men and people in bdsm circles in like the 60s and 70s started using flagging- a code based on handkerchiefs- to indicate what they were into to each other re:casual sex. According to the code wearing the handkerchief on the left side of your body means you’re a top and if its red it means you’re interested in fisting. 
> 
> UPDATE 2/21/21: I have edited (and significantly shortened) this fic because it no longer feels in line with my values to explicitly depict sex between minors.

Kurt’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He kept wondering if he was going to vomit, which was not the sexiest thought to be having while driving to his boyfriend’s house fully intent on losing his virginity.

Blaine often fiddled with the radio when Kurt drove him places, but tonight he hadn’t bothered. He kept stealing glances at Kurt from the passenger seat and the silence in the car was so loud it almost made Kurt laugh out loud.

“Kurt, I– Um.” Blaine stopped, and Kurt shot him a glance. “Are you into fisting?” Blaine asked the question in one nervous breath and Kurt’s stomach clenched. Then he did laugh a little, but it came out high and nervous.

“What?”

“Just. The handkerchiefs. I didn’t know if it was on purpose but. You’re wearing one again so I– I don’t know. Thought I should ask.” Blaine sounded embarrassed but it was nothing compared to the mortification sending waves of panic through Kurt’s body.

“Oh God.” He’d made a mistake. A terrible, foolish mistake. _What_ had he been _thinking_? “Um.” His voice was so high he was practically squeaking. “I didn’t think you would know what they meant?” His voice tilted up at the end like a question.

That wasn’t actually exactly true. Some fluttery part of him _had_ imagined Blaine noticing. The idea had seemed exciting when it was only hypothetical. Sending a message that only Blaine would understand, a message that he was different than he’d been last year. That he was ready. But the reality of Blaine saying those words made the fantasy seem wildly immature.

“I mean, I didn’t. I had to Google it. I just, I knew the handkerchiefs in back pockets thing and when you were wearing one the other week I was just curious. But then I kind of figured it wasn’t on purpose ‘cause it seemed… I don’t know. But now…” Kurt wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Blaine this flustered, and _oh God_ it was _his_ fault.

He noticed that his hand was shaking a little when he lifted it off the wheel to hit his turn signal. He was turning onto Blaine’s street. The familiar houses ticking past the window suddenly felt like a countdown timer. To what, he wasn’t sure.

“Carole got me this book–” he started.

“About BDSM?”

“No!” Kurt’s voice sounded too loud in his own ears and he actually jerked the steering wheel, coming a bit too close to the curb for comfort. “Sorry,” he muttered. His skin was _burning._ “It’s like, a history of queer fashion. Sort of contextualizing iconic queer designers in the trends of gay subcultures?”

“Oh. That sounds really cool.” Blaine sounded confused. Which was fair.

“Yeah, it is. I’ll definitely have to show you some time.” He could see Blaine nod out of the corner of his eye. “But um, anyway.” Kurt’s voice was edging into squeaky territory again and it took conscious effort to lower it. “They sort of, mentioned flagging in passing, and I didn’t know what it meant, so I looked it up.” Kurt bit his lip and took a deep breath through his nose. He just had to say it all, he knew there was no way out now. He’d gotten himself into this. He chanced one more glance at Blaine, who was gazing at him intently, looking– nervous? And then Kurt dove in, talking too fast in a rush to get it over with.

“And I’ve just been feeling so tired of everyone seeing me as this asexual fairy all the time, just nice and nonthreatening, like, literally a sparkly _unicorn._ And I just liked the idea of some code that connected me to people like the people in that book, that no one at school would understand, but that means that I’m a _person._ That people like me– like us, I mean– are real and have desires and are desirable. It just. It felt good. It made me feel,” Kurt swallowed, “sexy.”

“Kurt.” Kurt absolutely could not look at Blaine, but his voice sounded thoughtful, decidedly not repulsed. “Yeah, that. That makes a lot of sense to me.”

“Mm.” Kurt nodded and checked his blind spot before turning into Blaine’s driveway. They were here. He slid his gearshift into park, immediately mourning the loss of a task to do instead of looking at Blaine. When he turned off the engine, the interior light came on, the yellow of it too bright for the moment at hand.

“It does. And for the record,” Blaine unclipped his seatbelt so that he could shift, turning to face Kurt. “You _are_ sexy.” Kurt let out a huff of air. He felt somehow even redder than before. “Like, kind of unbelievably sexy.”

Kurt made himself turn to face Blaine then, unable to help the smile tugging at his lips. “You are too,” he said, almost whispering. Blaine smiled too, and under the nervousness Kurt felt a flash of excitement. The thrill of wanting and being wanted. That this could be the night, that they were there for a reason, that Kurt was _ready._

Time stretched, electric and new, between them, until the light timed out and turned off. Blaine laughed and looked down. “The color though?” he asked, after another moment. And Kurt gave into temptation and just dropped his face into his hands, eyes screwed up.

“Oh God,” he said again. Blaine laughed again, and Kurt laughed too, and that helped. Into his hands, Kurt continued. “I don’t know. I guess it’s something I’m interested in? Like, hypothetically? A long, long time from now?” He peeked through his fingers at Blaine, who was looking up at his garage through the windshield.

“Wow.”

“Oh _God.”_

“No, it’s– I’m just surprised. Last year you seemed so…” Blaine trailed off, looking back to Kurt.

“Innocent?” Kurt suggested wryly, finally dropping his hands.

“Yeah. And like, romantic.” Kurt couldn’t help but smirk.

“You don’t think fisting could be romantic?” he asked. Blaine kind of– choked.

“Oh my God,” he giggled. Kurt looked up at Blaine’s house– familiar now, but still kind of unbelievably massive.

“I may have, um.” He bit his lip. “Gotten over my aversion to porn.”

“Oh.” Kurt glanced over at Blaine and he looked flushed, eyes on his hands twisted in his lap, which was kind of _fun,_ Kurt caught himself thinking.

“I’m not like, saying I want to fist you right here right now.”

“No, I know,” Blaine hurried to say. He was still looking down, his thumb moving anxiously over one of his knuckles. Somehow seeing his nervousness made Kurt feel a little calmer. A reminder that his boyfriend was human, not some superhuman prep school boy robot prince. Those reminders had been coming thick and fast lately, and not always in welcome ways, but this– Kurt could work with.

“Did I totally freak you out?” Kurt asked.

“No, no. I mean, that makes sense. That it was hypothetical, and more for you than for anyone else. That you didn’t think anyone would know what it meant. I get that.” Blaine seemed to pull some string in himself and looked up, confident enough to make eye contact. “And it’s cool to know that you’re thinking about what you’re into. I’m glad you’ve been doing, um. Research.” Kurt laughed. That was a very Blaine way to describe jacking off to free internet porn.

“But?” Kurt prompted, because that didn’t explain the embarrassment from a moment before.

“The other thing, I guess– Well, you just said– The left side?”

Oh. Right. That.

Of course Kurt had worried that it would be problem, that after all this lead up, a perfect high school romance, their compatibility would come to a screeching halt here, at this question. Based on how their heaviest make out sessions had gone he had a suspicion it _wouldn’t_ be a problem, but he had told himself they would cross that bridge when they came to it. So now here they were.

“Is that a problem?” he asked, holding his breath.

“I guess I don’t…” Blaine looked nervous again. “Know?” Kurt nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

“Are you like, sure?” Kurt cocked his head, thinking.

“I mean, I feel pretty sure? I guess I always thought, you know–” Kurt stopped. He took a deep breath. He had to just say it, if they were going to have sex he had to be able to just say these things. “I always assumed I had to be a bottom because I’m, like,” he gestured to himself. “ _so_ gay.” Blaine smiled, eyes twinkling in whatever glow the streetlights behind them allowed.

“But then as soon as I let myself start actually thinking about what I want, it became pretty clear that it isn’t that. I mean, penetration. Or,” he backtracked, “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying it at some point I don’t think. But if given the choice, the idea of,” he took another deep breath, “fucking someone is a lot hotter to me than the idea of being fucked.”

At the word “fucking” Kurt heard Blaine draw in a sharp inhale. It wasn’t how they usually talked to each other, and again the newness felt electric in the small space of the car.

“Okay,” Blaine said.

“I wasn’t imagining that this conversation would be, like, relevant to whatever we do tonight, if you still want to–”

“I do,” Blaine interrupted him. They both laughed.

“Me too,” Kurt said. Blaine nodded, still smiling.

“Yeah, no, me neither. I figured we’d, you know, work up to it.” He paused before adding, “Fucking,” as if to taste the word for himself. Kurt giggled, despite himself.

“Yeah.”

“I guess I’m just processing.”

“Have you thought about it?” Blaine raised his eyebrows at him and Kurt backtracked. “Well, no, of course, I just mean. I guess I’m asking _what_ you’ve thought about it?” Blaine shrugged.

“I don’t know. I guess I assumed you would want me to, you know, top. Which obviously I shouldn’t have.” Kurt shrugged back. It stung a little, but it wasn’t surprising.

“Well, no, but that makes two of us.” He smiled. “What about before me?” Blaine looked back out the windshield, and his thumb started rubbing over the same knuckle again. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I don’t know.”

There was a time when Kurt would have been frustrated with this answer. It wasn’t easy for him to understand when other people just didn’t _know_ what they wanted. How often had he known exactly what he wanted and been forced to accept less or different? How often had he wished to be given a choice? And after how confident Blaine always seemed when they talked about sex, this was a particularly unexpected turn.

But Kurt was starting to learn just how often Blaine’s confidence was a guise, and starting to guess that having a seemingly perfect life packaged up and handed to you before you could even walk might make it difficult to trust your own instincts. So instead of snapping or pushing he just reached out and covered Blaine’s hands with one of his own, stopping the anxious movement.

“That’s okay,” he said. “No pressure.” Blaine turned to him sharply, and something unreadable flashed over his face before he smiled.

“Thanks Kurt,” he said. When their eyes met, the point of contact took on another meaning, and Kurt moved his hand slightly further up, so he could stroke over the thin skin on the inside of Blaine’s wrist. Blaine’s eyes shot down and then back up again, breath catching, lips parted.

“Inside?” Kurt asked.

“Definitely.”

Blaine fumbled with the key to the front door as Kurt watched. Inside it was quiet and dark and smelled like floor polish and potpourri and all the things that made up Blaine’s stuffy home life. It was surreal to stand there, in the entry hall, knowing what they were about to do, knowing how Blaine’s parents would feel about it if they weren’t away on overlapping business trips.

Blaine had said once that even though on the surface his parents tried for all the world to pretend he and Kurt were just friends, he thought they probably privately assumed (or feared) he and Kurt were having sex in the house every night whenever they were both out of town. The two had laughed at the idea while they made elaborate dinners in the fancy kitchen and watched classic musicals on the massive television, but it made Kurt sad, to think of parents so committed to false appearances that they were indifferent to the actual reality of their son’s life. It made him want to love Blaine even harder, as if he could saturate him in the feeling.

Kurt reached for Blaine’s hand once he’d locked the door behind them and flipped on a light. Blaine curled his fingers around Kurt’s and it was grounding, a tug into right here, right now.

“Bedroom?” Blaine said. Kurt let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and nodded.

He was hyper-aware of his body as he climbed the stairs, still holding Blaine’s hand. His feet were too big, his legs too long. While he usually considered himself graceful, it was taking most of his concentration not to trip and fall like an overeager colt, pulling Blaine down with him. He squeezed Blaine’s hand. Blaine squeezed back.

Blaine’s bedroom was the room in the house where Kurt felt most comfortable. The influence of Blaine’s parents was less overwhelming here. There were still marks of some performance of upper class boyhood that Kurt didn’t quite understand– the models of vintage cars, the framed photo of a polo match on the wall– but there was also a picture of Kurt on the bedside table, and books about gay activism alongside SAT prep books and biographies of famous musicians.

Blaine used their still-linked hands to tug Kurt closer, and Kurt dropped the hand in favor of taking hold of Blaine’s hips. Blaine rested his forearms on Kurt’s shoulders, like they were slow dancing. And then they were still. Even the idea of kissing suddenly felt far more intimate, as a gesture towards what was to come. Kurt let out another shaky breath.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“I trust you.”

“Well I _know_ that,” Kurt rolled his eyes, teasing, “But are you nervous? Because I spent the whole drive here talking myself down from puking and I need to know I’m not alone.” Blaine laughed, dropping his head onto Kurt’s shoulder.

“If you aren’t ready…” he started.

“I didn’t say that. I’ve been ready for a while now, to tell you the truth. This just feels so big.” Blaine looked up.

“Yeah, I’m nervous too.” Something in Kurt’s chest dissolved at that, and it was the easiest thing in the world to catch Blaine’s mouth in a kiss, warm and familiar.

Easy to guide Blaine’s hands to the buttons of his vest. Easy to watch Blaine shed his shirt. Easy to stroke the smooth stretches of arm and chest left exposed by Blaine’s undershirt. Easy to pull off his own henley. Or if easy wasn’t the word, just as natural as it was breathtaking.

Blaine’s hand hovered over Kurt’s belt buckle for a moment, and then backtracked to his bicep instead. Kurt laughed into Blaine’s neck, which he had been kissing.

“What?” Blaine asked.

“Nothing. Just– you can take it off if you want.”

“Oh.” Kurt looked at Blaine’s face in time to catch his cheeks flushing. “No, I know, I just. Don’t want to rush.”

“Mm.” Kurt examined Blaine’s expression, wondering if he was thinking of his drunken fumbling at Scandal’s. “Let’s lay down?”

“That sounds good, yeah.”

They separated to toe off their shoes and click on the warm lamps around the room. Kurt hung his vest and their shirts on the back of Blaine’s desk chair, unable to bear leaving them heaped on the ground. Blaine chuckled from the other side of the room and Kurt rolled his eyes back, smiling.

This was still familiar territory. They had slept in Blaine’s bed together a few times already this week, and before that over the summer, whenever both of their parents were out of town. It was a gesture towards the future they dreamed of together– waking up in the same bed, making breakfast, getting ready for their days. Not intimate in the sexual sense, but definitely in all other ways.

Kurt’s bag of travel toiletries was still on Blaine’s dresser. As he sat down on the bed it was on the side he had already began to think of as his. Blaine laid down on his side and Kurt laid facing him– foreheads, noses and knees brushing. Again, nothing new, but the air they were now sharing still felt heavy.

“I know I said I’m ready, but if you aren’t, that would be okay too.” Kurt was practically whispering, the space between them was so small. He could feel Blaine’s breath puff over his lips when he responded.

“I know. I’m ready. Like you said, it’s just… big.”

“Yeah,” Kurt breathed.

Blaine brought his hand to Kurt’s elbow, and slowly slid it up his forearm, landing at his wrist. Kurt smiled and nuzzled Blaine’s nose with his own. Every touch was dizzying, warm, tingling.

“What do you want to do?” Blaine asked.

The question was so simple, so obvious. They had already talked about fisting and fucking, comparatively it should have been easy to answer, but Kurt felt his ears reddening.

“Um.” He snaked his wrist out of Blaine’s loose hold, instead flexing his fingers open for Blaine to entwine his with. “I want to touch you.”

“How specific.” Blaine pushed their held hands to the bed on the other side of Kurt’s head, so that he was hovering over Kurt’s chest, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Shut up,” Kurt shot back, and he craned up to kiss him.

It was somewhere in the hazy afterglow when Blaine said, “Will you stay?”

Kurt knew that Blaine was just asking if he would spend the night, but he felt like he was promising something bigger, too big to name just then, when he responded.

“Of course.”


End file.
